Not The Way It's Supposed To Be
by middle child03
Summary: Missing scenes for Stargate: Continuum. Each chapter is a different alternate timeline story posted in order from #1 when the TL changes until #6 when SG-1 is sent on their mission. Read one or all. SG-1, Landry, O'Neil, Hammond and Hayes are featured.
1. Way to go, Jackson

A couple of emails alerted me to the fact that I don't really tell you much in the story summary. That's true and it's because of the limited number of characters allowed to explain anything. Here's more about the stories in case you want to read more than this first one. Warning - contains spoilers for the movie and for the stories... sort of. :)

These are missing scene stories for the movie and all of them occur in the new time line.

**#1** is about Sam, Daniel and Cam on the submarine after Daniel meets Colonel Jack O'Neill.  
**#2** is about Hank Landry and how he is alerted and what he finds when he gets there.  
**#3** is mostly SG-1 and how they react to being told they are going to be separated and denied involvement in any future stargate program. Landry is in it just a little.  
**#4** is when Jack gets home to Sara and Charlie after meeting SG-1 and finding out about aliens and stargates and alternate time lines.  
**#5** is Jack and Hank at a bbq at Jack's house after they've both gotten home from meeting SG-1 and learning about things.  
**#6** is Hammond and President Hayes after SG-1 is sent off to get a power source for the ancient weapon.

I stopped the series with Hammond and Hayes talking about Jack rather than trying to write Jack fighting Cronus, SG-1 living in the new time line or Cam living in 1929 and waiting to get aboard the Achilles in 1939 to stop Ba'al. It seemed like a good place to end it. Thanks for being interested in these stories and please don't hesitate to tell me what you think about any of them. Feedback of all kinds is good for me.

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**#1 **- This is a missing scene story for the _Stargate_ movie "_Continuum." _A version of it was originally posted to a group on yahoo, but it's been rewritten with lots of help from zeilfanaat.

Warnings? None really except spoilers for the movie and the series.

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**"Way to go, Jackson"**

An angry Colonel Jack O'Neill exited the ward room, leaving SG-1 stunned and silent. They could see his back in the doorway as they heard his instructions to the officer of the guard.

"Alright, they can have access to food, water and any medical attention they might need. But they cannot go past this door except to use the head. And nobody comes in or out until we can surface and deal with these freaks."

The guard acknowledged the orders and a second later the Colonel was gone. SG-1 was left alone, though the door remained partially open. The two Air Force officers looked intently at each other. What had just happened? The archaeologist's brow creased in troubled thought. The seconds ticked away and O'Neill did not return. They heard footfalls from the corridor and looked toward the door. The sound of someone walking receded and still no O'Neill. The three looked at each other with a measure of uncertainty before Daniel Jackson clenched his hand into a fist and hung his head. The Colonel wasn't coming back.

Ticktock... ticktock... ticktock. Finally Cameron Mitchell chimed in with a sarcastic, "That went well."

Samantha Carter sighed in frustration and Daniel Jackson shifted awkwardly, gently rearranging the blanket across his lap as he tried to get more comfortable. He'd been staring straight ahead, but he glared right at Mitchell and snarled, "Ya think?" in true Jack O'Neill fashion. He was still trying to come to terms with "Jack" in their current timeline. Not being recognized by his friend had unnerved him.

Samantha Carter was having the same problem. First General Jack O'Neill had been killed by Ba'al, and now here he was alive and well. A Colonel instead of a General, but it was O'Neill… and then again it wasn't. There were similarities, but also distinct differences. Her hopes had soared when he had recognized her out on the ice, or at least she thought he had. Now that she took time to think, it hadn't made sense at all. When asked how he got there so fast, he'd admitted being there for a drop with special forces. A different timeline meant differences, and mentally she was lagging behind. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Briefly closing her eyes, she forced herself to concentrate. O'Neill had been very comfortable hailing the sub and climbing aboard. He had gained access to the satellite photo with no problem at all. She wondered if he had ever been on a submarine before and how he knew how to use the equipment. The LTJG guarding them had accepted his authority without even a question, but it wasn't just rank that compelled the guard to follow O'Neill's orders.

The Colonel and the sub Captain were of equal rank, both O-6. It was the Captain's command, his boat and his crew. No, it definitely wasn't about rank. This was about the new mission. The mission that had started as soon as the satellite picked up the active stargate. That mission had gone from investigation to rescue when they had plucked Daniel from the ice and heard Cam's radio call. The mission that had three people who were where they didn't belong, geographically and in time. Colonel Jack O'Neill had been diverted and ordered to investigate. The Captain had the sub, but O'Neill was in command of the mission, and that meant he was in charge of the three of them. Suddenly deciding that, with the guard listening, they should be careful about what they said, Sam opened her eyes and looked to her teammates. She intended to tell them her thought, but before she could say anything about any of it, Mitchell jumped in again.

"Way to go, Jackson," he half sighed, his own frustration evident. None of this was supposed to be happening. He had looked forward to Ba'al's demise. Vala had stressed it was an extraction, not an execution, but he knew, Vala knew, they all knew that the Tok'ra would never let Ba'al stay alive to take another host. General O'Neill dying had been a major blow. Cam's failure to protect the man kept his gut twisting. Carter's response was a bit of a surprise. He had to drag her away when she hesitated to follow the General's order to get to the gate. Cam figured it was shock more than anything else. That and O'Neill hadn't used his last breath to say good-bye or anything else of a personal nature. Cam wasn't surprised. Knowing he was dying, knowing he wouldn't get another chance, the former SG-1 leader, the former SGC commander, and now head of Homeworld Security had done what he'd always done. He'd taken care of his people. If they hadn't left when they did, their time line would probably have been lost forever. And they wouldn't have had any clue about it at all. At least that's what his brain was telling him. In his estimation, General O'Neill's order had saved the three of them and preserved a chance, no matter how small, of restoring their own time line. Cam believed himself to be a good AF officer, but he hoped that someday he could be on a level close to Major General Jack O'Neill.

Daniel had spent the last few seconds thinking, and remembering. Before his rescue he had thought about Sam and Mitchell, and the unlikely possibility that they would find anyone or that anyone would find them. He had thought about Vala and Teal'c and what might have happened to them, and the Tok'ra. He tried not to think about Jack. His death at Ba'al's hand was still too painful. His brain had tried to make sense of the Stargate being underwater and what it meant. He had wondered if the second one was still hidden deep in the crevasse in Antarctica. But mostly he had thought about being extremely cold... and probably dying... or if Oma would offer him ascension again.

Suddenly irritated by Mitchell, he loudly pitched back, "It's not my fault things are different."

Their guard outside the door gently cleared his throat, confirming Sam's assumption that he was listening. Daniel shrugged and threw a defiant look at his teammates, his emotions boiling over. His hand found a roll of medical tape on the edge of the bed that the medic had left behind and not thinking twice, he flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thunk before falling to the floor. Carter and Mitchell glared at him as the guard once again cleared his throat. The entire situation sucked, and Daniel wasn't being shy about expressing his displeasure, but he also knew he should calm down and control his emotions. The conversation with O'Neill hadn't gone well, and all three of them were trying to figure it out. Nobody was to blame, not really. Maybe they should have done more listening and a lot less talking. Did any of them really believe that the people in this new timeline would just accept what SG-1 had been telling them? If their roles had been reversed, they would have been more than a little skeptical too.

Mitchell felt like yelling at Jackson. Instead he kept his own emotions in check and in a low voice asked, "Did you have to bring up his kid?" He knew about O'Neill's son, many at Stargate Command had some knowledge about the child, but nobody, NOBODY, ever brought it up.

"No, but… I… I just thought maybe if anything was the same here it would be… that." Daniel looked obstinate, believing his own words, but also knowing that O'Neill's outrage was justified. He'd accused the man of responsibility in the death of his own son. And in this timeline it hadn't happened.

Sam had to speak up, her words soft and caring. "It might have been better to just mention his son, not his death... and especially not the way he died."

Her own thoughts had spun round at tornado speed and kept settling on the words 'dead astronaut'. That's what O'Neill had called her. In this timeline, the boy was alive and she was dead. Her scientist brain was still having trouble with that concept. What about her brother and his family? Were they in San Diego in this timeline? Did her father get cancer? Had he died? No Stargate meant no Stargate program so the other Samantha Carter had gone on to NASA. Had she married? Did she have children? She hadn't changed her name, but that didn't mean anything. The questions swirled through her mind until Daniel's voice grabbed her attention.

"Yeah okay, I guess I could have said that …. better." The admission was unusual for Daniel Jackson. He didn't often confess to making a mistake. It was no surprise that he had stopped short of apologizing.

Meanwhile, Mitchell's thoughts went back to the earlier conversation they had had with O'Neill. He had hated it and was kicking himself for his own stupid question. How could he have asked him about getting there fast? His brain really was fried. Jackson was drugged, he had an excuse. But he and Sam were just tired. The events on the Tok'ra planet had sucked, and four hours of walking in the freezing cold hadn't been fun, but their brains should still be working. Sam had tried to convince O'Neill about the timeline, but she hadn't sounded credible and that was out of character for her. She wasn't focusing any better than Jackson.

"This timeline is different." Mitchell's statement got a snort from Daniel, and Sam rolled her eyes. "The question is, how different is it?"

He expected them to jump in with all kinds of predictions. Instead neither one said anything, so he asked again. "For our situation right now. Right now." He looked straight at Sam's face, his eyes boring into hers. "What are the most important things, right now, that will just kill us if they're different?"

Sam dropped her gaze from his and sighed, "No stargate, no stargate program."

This was good. She was thinking again. "Okay. That doesn't necessarily kill us directly, but certainly makes it more difficult to get things back to the way they're supposed to be. What else?"

Daniel chimed in with, "Entropic cascade failure."

Sam was quick to correct him, which convinced Mitchell that she was back on track. "Temporal entropic cascade failure is a side effect of travel to an alternate reality."

"Yeah, a fatal side effect," Daniel snarked.

Mitchell watched Sam smile slightly before she stated, "That shouldn't happen." She looked at Mitchell's blank expression and knew she needed to explain. "We're not in a different reality. It's the same reality, just a different timeline. Ba'al went back in time and changed it."

Mitchell didn't want to talk about Ba'al. "Okay, no dying from entropic whatever. What about the political climate?"

Sam and Daniel stared at him. Mitchell didn't care, they had gotten off track. "Who is President of the United States?" He knew it might not kill them, but he wanted to know. Heaven forbid it was Kinsey or someone just as bad. He shuddered. That would actually kill him, one way or the other.

Daniel giggled before admitting, "Henry Hayes is the President."

"In our timeline, Daniel," Sam reminded him. "We don't know if he is President in this new timeline."

Daniel giggled again. "I know I've been drugged, but I also know that Hayes is President here too."

Mitchell had to ask, he had to know. "You know this... how?"

"These Navy guys were pretty curious and they wanted to know a few things. You know, like, name, rank and serial number." He giggled again. "Anyway, they asked a few and I asked a few. And the corpsman working on my leg was pretty chatty." He looked at them with raised eyebrows.

"Go on, guess what I found out." Nobody felt like guessing. It had been a hellish day and everyone was exhausted. Daniel realized immediately that he should just tell them what he knew.

A few minutes later, Cam and Sam knew that Henry Hayes was President, but Kinsey was not VP. He had served in the Senate, but when Hayes was elected he had become Secretary of State. The US military was fighting in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. On a lighter note, the Green Bay Packers had won the last super bowl, Katie Couric was still on The Today Show, and Fidel Castro had died 20 years ago.

Mitchell almost couldn't believe that Jackson had mentioned anything about football, but thinking about what he hadn't told them, Cam had to ask, "What about 9/11? We're at war, so I assume..." It was an obvious conclusion.

Daniel nodded and replied solemnly, "9/11 happened... except flight 93 didn't go down in Pennsylvania."

Carter and Mitchell looked surprised so Daniel continued. "The last call from the plane said the terrorists were killing everyone and the caller wanted his wife to know he loved her before they got to him. That plane also crashed into the Pentagon." He hesitated for only a moment before adding, "Over 1300 died." He waited for that to sink in before revealing another puzzle piece, different from their time line. "Most people evacuated the Twin Towers before they collapsed. Not as many people died as in our time line, including fire, rescue and police. It was still horrible, but many more people died at the Pentagon."

The three time travelers stayed quiet for a while before Mitchell pulled two chairs across the floor, closer to Daniel's perch. He indicated for Sam to take one, stating, "We need a plan." Sitting down he asked, "Is it too late for a plan?"

His attempt to lighten their moods was met with glares which quickly changed to small smiles. The timeline was different and they needed to do something to fix it, but at least they were alive to do something about it. If they hadn't been in the wormhole when everything changed, nobody would know anything about the stargate or Ba'al. Hopefully they'd have the opportunity to do something... anything.

Carter flopped into the chair next to Mitchell. She was exhausted. They didn't have a stargate and they'd had no luck getting O'Neill to even listen. Her normally brilliant brain had no ideas about a plan. For many seconds nobody said anything. They were each buried in their own thoughts. The floor of the submarine moved just a little. It was just enough to notice, but not enough to cause anxiety. At least not more anxiety than the three of them were already feeling.

Unable to remain silent for long, Daniel groused, "I wonder how long we'll be in this tin can."

His query broke into the private thoughts of the others as he added, "Not that this is the first time I've been on a submarine." Smirking, he looked right at Sam.

She smiled, remembering. "At least this submarine has more room than that little Russian one."

Everyone knew about the mission to shut down the Russian stargate. Carter and Daniel had lived it and Mitchell had read about it. They didn't know if the US and Russia were on friendly terms in this timeline. The only reference so far had been on the ice, when it was revealed that a Russian submarine was in the area and nosing around. That announcement had given no indication as to whether it was friend or foe, so the three timeline jumpers could only wonder.

Mitchell voiced his opinion first. "Great, someone might be listening to this conversation and we're mentioning Russians. For all we know they're bad guys in this version of history and now they'll think we're spies."

Carter and Daniel shared a look, each instantly remembering another time travel experience, a different kind of experience. On that mission they had gone back in time, not to a completely changed version of history. Mitchell was a little bit slower, having learned about that mission in a back door sort of way. He noticed the looks on his teammates faces, but he didn't add to his own statement. Daniel and Sam both grinned, enjoying the memories of meeting Lt. George Hammond, Teal'c learning to drive, hippies, tie dyed shirts and Cassie as an adult sending them home. And no temporal entropic cascade failure either. Daniel's eyes sparkled as he asked Sam, "Doesn't this remind you just a little of 1969?"

Sam cocked her head slightly, gazing right into Daniel's eyes. With 1969 memories fresh in her mind, she couldn't help herself, and without worrying about the guard or anyone else listening in, she quipped, "Da."

They started laughing. Even Cam. Was it genuine humor at their similar situation? Was it relief at being rescued since it could have easily gone the other way? Or was it just a little bit of fear about their futures, and the future of Earth in their own timeline? The levity only lasted a minute and then they were silent. Each member of SG-1 was suddenly too tired for good reasoning. Worrying and wondering about what might happen next would just have to wait a little while.

The End

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Thanks to both zeilfanaat and bats212 for their input and beta skills, and thank you for reading. Please review.


	2. Retired Yeah, right!

This is a missing scene story for the Stargate movie "Continuum." It is new and was written with tons of help from zeilfanaat, who also gets credit for the title.

Warnings? None really except spoilers for the movie and the series.

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**"Retired - yeah, right!"**

_Ring!_ What? Oh, he just knew he'd been having a fantastic dream before being jolted awake. _Ring!_ It was the telephone. He turned over and reached for the receiver, his wife groggily sitting up next to him. _Ring!_ A glance at the illuminated clock told him this was bad. A phone call in the middle of the night was always a bad thing.

He didn't get a chance to even grunt before he heard, "General Hank Landry?" Retired from the Air Force, he was rarely addressed as General anymore.

"Yeah, this is Landry. Who's this?"

Fifty minutes later he was dressed and packed, and a car was out front waiting for him.

In his North Star Inn unit, designated distinguished VOQ (visiting officer quarters), Hank was pacing. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. His brain wouldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen and heard since arriving earlier in the day. It was all so incredible. The three strangers had been rescued from the ice and taken by submarine to Thule AFB, Greenland. One of them had needed medical attention, but security was a priority, so after a medical professional confirmed that a few hours wasn't going to make a difference one way or the other, they were immediately flown to Alaska.

Jack O'Neill had accompanied them on the 2000+ mile journey, and Hank could only imagine what that had been like. He kept pacing, hoping to exhaust himself so he could collapse onto the bed and get some sleep. The transport hadn't been fully loaded, so the plane completed the trip in about five hours.

Hank remembered Jack sleeping soundly on flights just like that, but this trip he would have had to stay awake and watch the strangers. Jack as a handler for those three cracked him up, and he looked forward to teasing his friend about it the next time they spoke. The boxed meals could have occupied them for a little while, but after that they would have had almost nothing to do. Due to security concerns they wouldn't have had newspapers, magazines, books or other reading material of any kind. And they wouldn't have been allowed to talk very much, which left sleeping or maybe playing cards.

On arrival at Elmendorf AFB, they had been taken by security personnel to the hospital where lots of things had happened. Each had received a medical examination, and samples of their blood collected for testing. Their clothes were bagged and tagged for inspection, and they had been given standard BDUs to wear. Except for the younger guy - a civilian with glasses and a frostbitten left leg.

The medic on the sub had done all he could, but after the exam and testing for circulation, the man had been taken to an operating room**, **where they had amputated the limb before gangrene could develop. The leg had been too badly damaged and there was no way to save it.

The other two, obviously in the military where they had come from, had passionately pleaded to stay at the hospital, at least until their friend was safely out of surgery. The base commander had approved, if for no other reason than to keep them together until personnel from the NSA and DOD arrived.

The folks in Washington had been scrambling, trying to figure out who had jurisdictional control so they could decide just who to send to the 49th state. It had taken several hours to get the people who could make something happen actually believe what they were being told. It was a fantastic story, right out of a science fiction novel. Hank chuckled and kept pacing.

When the man was out of surgery and in the recovery room, security had been instructed to take the others to detention quarters. Truth be told, nobody had expected them to leave without a fight, and sure enough, they had insisted on seeing their friend. Nobody wanted to pick them up and carry them out, so they had been allowed a three minute supervised visit when the man was ready to be taken to the orthopedic floor, where he would be kept under guard.

During this time, Jack had been trying to get back to the training exercise out on the ice. The base commander had been sympathetic, but he had orders from the Air Force Chief of Staff to keep the Colonel there until the people from Washington released him. Jack had finished his reports, very thorough and detailed reports, and the commander told Hank that Jack had not been happy about having to stay. Hank sympathized with what his friend had been feeling, but orders were orders. After all, he'd been woken in the middle of the night and hauled to the land of the midnight sun, and he wasn't even on active duty anymore. When they wanted you for something, they would get you, one way or another.

Hank had read the official account from the Navy, which had been instantly classified at the highest level. The captain and crew of the U.S.S. Alexandria didn't need to be told about security or the meaning of top secret, but they had been anyway. A few people at Thule AFB, as well as the transport crew had been warned about telling anyone anything about what they thought they knew. It was Washington's way of reminding the military that they took orders from a civilian government. Hank was looking forward to reading Jack's report, and would have liked to have seen him, but as soon as they had finished with him, Jack had convinced the base CO to let him commandeer a plane and a pilot so he could return to the site of the training exercise. Looking down at the carpet where he'd been pacing, Hank had to admit that the berber actually held up pretty well. He paced a while longer before suddenly feeling quite tired and he headed to the bed, confident that he could finally sleep.

Listening to Samantha Carter, Cameron Mitchell and Daniel Jackson wasn't fun anymore. In the beginning**,** it had been an adventure, but now Hank just wanted to go home.

SG-1 had been questioned extensively for many days, as much as 12 hours each of those days. Jackson was the exception since he'd been hospitalized for part of the time and was still under doctor's care. It was still hard to believe that they thought they knew him. In a way they did know Hank Landry. It just wasn't him. Just like he'd been to Samantha Carter's memorial service, but it wasn't the Samantha Carter that was yelling at the interviewer now. He watched as she sat back down and just stared at the table top. Hank thought the look on her face might be akin to her experiencing heartburn. The interviewer asked another question, but she refused to answer, just shook her head and glared.

Next he listened as Daniel Jackson explained again about the stargate symbols and constellations. Even Hank was tired of hearing about that and wondered why the operatives didn't mix it up a little. He knew they were trying to break SG-1's story, but even Hank was believing they were who they said they were. A few days ago none of it was possible. Aliens hadn't been to Earth, ever, unless you didn't believe the Roswell weather balloon story. Interstellar travel wasn't possible; humans had barely made it to the moon and back, and were still having trouble getting to and from the International Space Station. Yet here was a man, going on and on about an ancient artifact, an ancient _alien _artifact, that made all that possible, and it had in fact occurred not once, but regularly over many years. Well, in that other time line anyway. Hank didn't bother bother pondering why the big alien ring was called a stargate, when it apparently went to planets. Instead he watched the archaeologist who had become much less animated, and Hank knew he must be tiring by the way he slumped against the table top. Jackson had been released from the hospital, but was not yet recovered from the surgery.

Hearing the interviewer suggest a break, Hank indicated to the sergeant to switch cameras, and Cameron Mitchell's voice blared through the speaker. The man was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, and Hank could certainly identify with him since he'd done a lot of that the past few nights. A few minutes of listening and watching and he'd had enough. It was time to put an end to this. He spent the next three hours on the phone, before being told that they were reviewing all the evidence and someone would get back to him soon.

Evidence. Hank knew there was a lot. Dr. Daniel Jackson was alive and well in Egypt, and his physical description matched the man sitting in the interview room. He had multiple degrees, but was considered a crackpot because of his theories about aliens, and as he put down the file, Hank couldn't help wondering just how close the man was to being right. Jackson's grandfather, Nicholas Ballard, claimed a crystal skull had transported him somewhere else, and he was now a patient in a sanitarium. By all accounts they weren't close, and Hank hoped that nobody from the NSA had gone to question the elderly man. Cameron Mitchell didn't exist... anywhere. No birth certificate, no school records, no financials, no IRS employment history... nothing. And his service number and social security number were matched to two other people who were born the same year he claimed to have been. Consultation with scientists led Hank and others to actually believe in the grandfather paradox. The DNA from Samantha Carter matched the DNA from Astronaut Samantha Carter, and dental records were pretty close too, the exceptions being a crown and a filling.

Tests confirmed that they could have been living in the Colorado Springs area for many years. At least Carter and Jackson. Mitchell's levels of arsenic indicated he'd been there for a much shorter time, which was consistent with his story too. Carter's blood had an unidentified substance in it that the lab guys said was a heavy metal. According to SG-1, it was a substance called naquadah. Her blood also had a protein marker the others didn't, but none of them would or could explain it. (Nobody knew that before leaving the sub, SG-1 had agreed not to reveal anything about Jolinar. Entry had been through her mouth and throat so there wasn't a scar that needed explaining, and they all knew their government well enough to predict that Sam would be forever held in detention if anyone found out she'd been a host to an alien life form.)

Their BDUs were standard issue desert camouflage, but the design of the patch did not match anything anyone had seen before, and just like troops going into a combat zone, they had no personal property on them at all. The foul weather gear was old and determined to be WWII era, consistent with their story about the Achilles.

They knew things about the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and two bases in Nevada that they just shouldn't know. The list of things they shouldn't know/couldn't know, including details about people, got longer with each interview. When he discovered how much they knew about him, Hank was more convinced than ever that they were indeed telling the truth. Not everything was correct, but enough of it was to make him a believer. What they claimed to know about Jack's son, Charlie, was disturbing, even to Hank. He was glad his friend hadn't been around for the rest of it, where Jackson talked about divorce and a suicide attempt. Some of it didn't surprise Hank at all. Things like Jack getting an alien named Teal'c to defy his god and help them, being special by having the Ancient gene, leading the team for seven years, and saving the planet... more than once, sounded entirely plausible. His friend promoted to Major General, head of a department called Homeworld Security, and Hank's boss, was absolutely possible in the retired general's opinion, and even Jack being good friends with an alien named Thor somehow didn't seem strange. Yes, Hank could believe it all. His growling stomach told him he was hungry, and his watch reminded him that it was four hours later on the East coast, making it unlikely that anyone from the White House would be calling back before morning, so he left the observation room thinking about, of all things, dinner with aliens.

Word had come from Washington, and Hank was watching and listening to the video conference call in a very secure room with an Air Force General and a Navy Admiral, and also with one representative from both the NSA and DOD**. **Hank was very surprised to be included. The President's decisions though weren't really surprising at all. The U.S.S. Alexandria had been sent back to where the ship went down to search for the alien artifact, and a team was on its way to Antarctica to try to find a second one there. A stargate czar had been appointed by the President, though he wasn't being called thatbecause everything had to be kept secret. The czar's job would be to coordinate with the military, specifically the Navy, and the scientific community, to get teams in place for when an artifact was found. A medical team was already studying Samantha Carter's blood to discover what they could about naquadah, and there was a request for a blood sample from Jack O'Neill and another guy to start searching for the Ancient gene**,** so other people with it could be identified.

Carter, Jackson and Mitchell posed a significant security risk. They were to sign nondisclosure agreements in exchange for new identities, places to live, vehicles and living allowances, and they were to be relocated to different parts of the country. Jackson would be going to a rehabilitation facility to get his strength back and be fitted for a prosthesis, before he got a house or apartment. The next part of the call was all about the conditions, and Hank zoned out for a minute, thinking about how the three of them were likely to react to the news. He'd spent the better part of ten days listening to them, and the underlying theme was how they had to use the gate to change the timeline back. They all kept saying that things weren't the way they were supposed to be and how they had to make everything right again. As far as Hank was concerned, there wasn't anything wrong with the timeline. And if making it right meant Charlie died and Jack went off the deep end, then that was just one reason why changing it was not an option. He was absolutely certain there were a million more reasons.

The mention of his name got Hank's attention just in time for him to hear that he was to tell SG-1 all about the arrangements. He did so not want to do that, but the White House Chief of Staff was adamant, since it seemed like they'd take the news better from him than a stranger. Hank laughed out loud. He was a stranger to them, just like they were strangers to him, but the decision had been made. SG-1 was still being questioned, and he'd seen them not two hours before. They'd been defensive and still in denial about their situation. Hank was sure they'd eventually go through all the stages of grief and loss, and hopefully adjust to the current timeline. It would take some time though and he suddenly got an idea.

He spent the next four hours confirming everything, and asked the NSA representative to have SG-1 brought to the hanger as soon as the aircraft was ready. They were still being questioned separately, and he knew they'd take the news better if they were together. There wasn't much time before they'd not be allowed to see or talk to each other. Hank hoped that being together to hear the news, and then together on the plane, would help them deal with it.

He'd been wrong. They hadn't taken it well at all, and Hank found himself unprepared for their anguish and despair. Their passionate as well as arrogant pleading was admirable, considering the circumstances, but the decision had already been made at the highest level, and he agreed with it.

As soon as his own plane leveled off, Hank reclined his seat and closed his eyes. Lack of sleep and the stress of the unusual situation had taken a toll, and he was so wanting to get home.

The End

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For this story I decided that the Achilles drifted until it got stuck in the ice somewhere close to Greenland. With that huge hole in its side, I don't think the ship made it farther than that. Just my opinion. Thanks for reading. If you liked it, please review. If you didn't like it, please review. :)


	3. Reality Check

This is a missing scene story for the Stargate movie "Continuum." It is new and was written with help from zeilfanaat.

Warnings – spoilers for the movie and the series and minor profanity

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"**Reality Check"**

From the movie –

Retired General Hank Landry had informed them, "The decision has been made at the highest level. I'm sure that, in time, your advice will be welcome. If and when the Navy gets this stargate up and running, you can come aboard as consultants, but you will never ever be allowed to step through that thing."

Samantha Carter had guessed the reason. "You're afraid we're going to try and repair the timeline."

"You've made that intention abundantly clear."

Daniel Jackson had jumped in, "Because we have a responsibility."

Landry had bellowed, "But you don't have the right. If you were to succeed, events in the lives of thousands if not millions of people would never have happened. My goodness people, the arrogance of what you're asking us to help you do is mind-boggling!"

He had added with much less volume, "Maybe if I wasn't woken in the middle of the night and flown to Alaska, I might be more like the kind, sympathetic former general you were hoping I'd be. But trust me, if you lived in this timeline..."

Cameron Mitchell had confirmed, finishing the sentence. "We'd want it to stay the way it is."

Landry was ready to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go back to my wife, and my very pleasant retirement. And you all have new lives to begin."

The retired general had then shouted to the waiting AF personnel, "They're ready to board the aircraft." Addressing SG-1 one last time, he had said, "It was a pleasure meeting all of you," before walking away.

* * *

SG-1 sat at the table in stunned silence. The sandwiches were stale. The coffee was cold. Their breathing seemed to echo in the hanger. Cam felt like throwing up. Sam had a stomach ache. All the frustration of the last few days had changed to anguish and despair. They were being sent away, hidden in plain sight, their lives shelved. Shut out of all decisions, they were at the mercy of their own government. A government they believed in and had defended was now calling all the shots.

Cam didn't exist so maybe he could at least keep his name.

Samantha Carter was deceased, so SG-1 Sam would have to become someone else. Her face was very recognizable, which meant she might have to alter her appearance too. Would she color her hair, cut her hair, wear tinted contact lenses or glasses? It was bewildering.

The timeline already had a live Dr. Daniel Jackson, so SG-1 Daniel would also have to become someone else. At least his double was out of the country and basically an outcast.

All that they were, all that they had, all that they'd done, all that they knew, was gone. Erased by a violent, arrogant, maniacal egomaniac named Ba'al.

Cam looked ready to cry and Sam's eyes were already a little teary. Daniel was the exception. His jaw was clenched so tight it had to hurt. He was fuming; much too angry to feel anything else.

None of them moved. They couldn't move. If they did, it would become real. All of it. It was much too painful.

The personnel in the hanger didn't react, but they were all affected. An SF finally walked over to the table and asked that they accompany him out the door to the tarmac, where a plane was waiting for them.

The time it would take to get to the continental United States was all the time they had left to spend together, but they had each chosen a place to sit that was several spaces away from the others. A psychiatrist named Murphy was on board the plane, trying to get them to talk about how they felt 10 days ago, how they felt 5 days ago, how they were feeling now, and how they had felt all the time in-between. He seemed to think that SG-1 would handle everything better and accept their situation if they vented to a total stranger.

They didn't welcome the man's presence to start with, and things got even chillier when he told them why he was there. None of them liked psych evaluations, and they didn't appreciate what he was trying to do. Things got worse when he addressed Sam as Ms. Carter and Cameron as Mr. Mitchell. It was one more reminder of their lost identities, their lost careers, their lost timeline. For some reason Daniel was still Dr. Jackson, though the degrees that defined him belonged to someone else.

Daniel was basically held captive in his seat, the wheelchair and crutches stored until landing. His emotions overflowed with anger in the forefront, and he exploded. "Get the hell away from me!"

The looks from Sam and Cameron convinced the man to try a different approach. He was following orders, but he did want to try to help them. If they would let him.

"Dr. Jackson, I only want to help. Let's start over."

If looks could kill, the man would be toast, but Daniel stayed silent while the guy retrieved papers from his briefcase.

"I'd like for each of you to have a copy of this." He handed them each a stapled two page handout. Daniel took one look, yelled, "Analyze this!" and threw it back.

Raising his voice over the plane noise, Murphy told them, "I will be available for the remainder of the flight, but one of you will be getting off each time we land." He paused while that information sunk in, and then added, "You won't be allowed to talk to each other for at least a year. Please talk to each other now, before your time is up."

He picked up Daniel's handout and gave it to Sam before walking away a few steps and taking another seat. Two of the three team members reluctantly looked at what he'd given them. At the top was their name, a title, and a list. Beside the topics were handwritten notations. Sam passed Daniel his paper, and after a few seconds of reluctance, he finally took it from her. The title was, _The Seven Stages of Grief,_ and he snarked, "I thought there were five stages of grief. This says there are seven."

Sam and Cameron didn't respond to his outburst. They were busy reading, and in time, they would find themselves agreeing with much of what was on the paper. The psychiatrist had written down his observations about each member of SG-1. At first they just read their own papers, but curiosity and Murphy's words had gotten to them, and soon they were comparing notes.

The list started with _shock and denial_. He'd written that they were still numb. That was mostly true. A scribbled question asked if they'd cried, hit something or thrown anything. Daniel had thrown the papers, did that count? Murphy had written that in his opinion they had survived the shock of what had happened to them, to their families and friends, and to the TL, but were still in denial. They hardly noticed that 'timeline' was substituted by 'TL'. After all, what if someone without clearance saw the paper?

_Pain and guilt_ was the next topic. He'd written that they were all feeling the pain of loss. Loss of their previous lives. Loss of control over their situation. Loss because of the death of O'Neill. Their O'Neill. Loss of the other members of SG-1. Loss because O'Neill and Landry hadn't recognized them as friends. Daniel's paper stated that he was also feeling loss because of his leg. And physical pain. All were suffering survivor's guilt. Cam's also said he was feeling guilty because he'd used the explosive that dislodged the ship from the ice, causing Daniel to get frostbite and lose his leg. Sam's said that she was feeling guilty for not providing Cam with another option so he wouldn't use the explosive, and she was also feeling guilty for leaving Daniel behind on the ice.

Next was _anger and bargaining_. It said they were all displaying anger, while hiding lots of anger at the same time. They were angry with 'Ball'. Cam had to smile when he noticed the spelling. To use the correct spelling would present a security risk if just anyone saw it. This way it seemed like it was just someone's name. The report said they were angry with their interviewers. _That_ was an understatement. It said they were angry with Colonel O'Neill and General Landry. Angry with General O'Neill for confronting Ball. Angry with him for dying. Angry because it seemed like nobody understood or cared about what happened to them. They were angry because the TL was wrong, and nobody except them wanted to change it. That was true. They were angry because nobody asked them where they'd like to live. Daniel's said he was angry about losing his leg. It also said he was harboring anger toward Cam for being stupid enough to blow a hole in the ship. And angry at both Cam and Sam for leaving him behind, even though he had told them to go, and they really had no choice. Daniel read Murphy's words and realized most of it was true. After bargaining the psychiatrist had written, 'There is none'. Then as maybe an afterthought, 'They feel powerless'. And that was true too. They felt powerless because they were. They had control over absolutely nothing.

The three members of SG-1 looked at each other. It was time for each one of them to take back control over what little they could. Starting with how they spent the time left on the plane. Daniel wasn't mobile, so Sam made the first move and moved over to sit by him on his right. He appeared grateful and happy to see her, and in another few seconds she was hugging him and they were whispering to each other. Their friendship was as strong as ever, and being separated wasn't going to change it. Sometime during the hug, or maybe the whispers, emotions boiled over and Sam started crying. She wept for what they all had lost. She wept for Daniel's leg. She wept for their situation and for their futures. Her tears turned to sobbing as she wept for herself. It was all so hard, almost too hard. Any hope of fixing the timeline seemed out of reach. And now they were going to be separated.

Cam gave the friends a little time alone, before he moved over to sit at Daniel's left, reaching across the man's body to rest his hand on Sam's arm. He didn't know how much comfort he'd be, but he knew she was only expressing what both he and Daniel were feeling too. Daniel lifted his head to look at Cam, and in that instant he realized that the archaeologist was crying too. Weeping for his lost leg, lost friends and everything that was wrong with the whole situation, Daniel didn't hold back. Nobody could understand what he was going through... nobody. No longer self conscious, a few tears hit Cam's cheek, and he quickly wiped them away with his hand. The hopelessness that had replaced frustration, was being washed away, and then he and Daniel hugged. They were alive. They didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow, in a month or in a year, but they were still alive. And as long as that was the case, there was still hope. A while later, the three were past feeling sorry for themselves, and were sitting quietly, looking over the last stages of grief on the handouts.

Murphy had written, '4,5,6 & 7 will happen while you're still in pain, in denial, feeling guilty and feeling angry. These all overlap. Be patient.' And he'd commented next to each of the remaining topics.

_4 - Depression, reflection, loneliness – Please call for assistance if this goes beyond six months_

_5 - Things change for the better – You'll start to adjust. Smile and laugh again. Start enjoying things._

_6 - Reconstruction, coping, learning to deal – You'll figure out how to live in the new TL. You'll learn to live without each other and without lost friends/family. _

_7 - Acceptance and hope – Due to the situation, this will take a long time. It will happen faster if you're allowed to talk to each other._

Sam, Daniel and Cam read what had been written and knew most of it was correct. They weren't wrong. They weren't right. They weren't damaged or insane. They were humans with human frailty, and they were getting ready to face the unknown once again. It was something they had experience with, and they'd get through it because they were survivors.

Dr. Murphy observed the three as they looked at the handouts. Jackson's body language betrayed his bravado as his whole body slumped. Carter moved over next to him, no longer able to keep her sorrow at bay and sobbed into his shoulder. Mitchell moved to Jackson's other side and reached across. She turned to look at him and he had tears too. Soon Jackson was relaxed in a Mitchell hug, and a few minutes later they were sitting close together and talking quietly. They'd made some headway, past the shock and denial. They were still angry, hurting and feeling guilty, but it was a start. They just needed some time.

He tried not to smile. It wasn't a pleasant thing to witness, but it was necessary to get them heading in the right direction. Not wanting to eavesdrop, just be close enough in case they wanted to talk, he thought about the exchange with Landry as the retired general had left the hanger.

"Reality caught up to them," he'd explained to Landry as the man closed the door to the hanger behind him, his chore accomplished. Sadness, and even a little regret, was very evident on his face, but before the psychiatrist could say anything to try to make him feel better, the older man had silenced him with a long, hard look. Finally breaking the gaze, and before ambling away, Landry had declared, "Reality catches up to everybody."

The End

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you're thinking. :)


	4. Much better than okay

This is a missing scene story for the Stargate movie "Continuum." A version of it was originally posted to a group on yahoo, but it's been rewritten with help from zeilfanaat.

Pairing - Jack & Sara (nothing graphic but it's rated T just in case)

Warnings – spoilers

* * *

**"Much better than okay"**

Her husband was safe and home, and Mrs. Jack O'Neill was very happy. She always worried when he was away. Today Jack had returned home just like every other time - clean shaven, freshly showered, duffel in tow, wearing civvies and a smile. She'd seen him when he got out of the vehicle and looked him over from afar as he waved goodbye to the driver and trudged up to the front porch. His warm hug and wet kiss had made the blood race through Sara's veins, and she had secretly wished that Charlie was at school or at a friend's house or the mall or almost anywhere except at home.

A short time later Sara knew that she and Jack would get together, but it wouldn't be that night. Her husband was preoccupied by something and she knew from experience that he might never talk about it, needing time to work it out on his own. While that wasn't unusual for him after a month long TDY, it was a little bit odd for him to spend many minutes just staring at their son. He had observed the young man talking on the phone. He had watched him during dinner. He had gazed sideways at him during the baseball game on TV. He had quietly opened the bedroom door, leaned against the door frame and just stared at Charlie sleeping.

She hadn't questioned him. She hadn't pushed for an explanation about his curious behavior. He had been gone for much longer on previous deployments, but this last one had affected him in a way that the others hadn't. She had waited patiently for him to volunteer something, anything, to give her a clue about what was on his mind. It was much later than usual when she kissed him good night and retreated to their bedroom, hoping it was something he could eventually tell her about.

Jack checked on Charlie one final time before reluctantly closing the door to the boy's bedroom. The stench of musky testosterone still tickled his nostrils and he smiled, wondering if he had ever smelled that way, and knowing that he had. It was a teenage boy odor that permeated everything in the room, so it reeked a little even when his son was not there. Charlie kept his room neat and clean, dirty laundry was in the hamper in the utility room and he showered everyday, but nothing could keep his hormones at bay. The kid was growing into a tall, good looking young man, who was polite, well mannered, disciplined and very smart. Jack knew Sara deserved most of the credit for the way he was turning out, though he hoped the amount of quality time he had been able to spend at home had contributed too.

Knowing he should get to bed didn't propel him there any faster. Jack was still bothered by the strange events of the last mission. First the strange blue light had appeared and disappeared, and nobody had a clue about what it was. Then the radio call, which was mostly static and not at all clear except for a name: Mitchell. His initial contact with Mitchell and Carter had been surprising and weird. They shouldn't have been out on the ice, and there hadn't seemed to be an explanation. At least not one that anyone could guess... or believe. After boarding the sub he had been informed about the third person, and it had just gotten weirder from there. The first debrief with the three of them had resulted in him abruptly leaving. When the guy with the frozen leg had told him his kid was dead, he'd not hidden his outrage very well. Charlie was at home, and safe. And the three strangers were just that - strange. He felt for the other Jack O'Neill. Losing his son was bad enough, but losing him that way must have destroyed the man. Jack knew that it would him. A parent was not supposed to outlive their child.

After leaving the ward room he'd gone to see the Captain and then to the communications center to alert his command. They had needed a medical report as well as the information about the three, so that they could get the proper people in place for the official debriefing. He had let the three have their space with all its pseudo privacy for about an hour before having the LTJG relieved. That conversation had revealed still more odd revelations, and the officer was relieved to not have to listen to them anymore. That was until he'd been ordered to talk to them again, hoping to get more information. Approaching the ward room for the second time he had waited quietly, trying to listen in on any conversation. They had been surprisingly quiet, and when he had turned the corner at the open door he understood why. They had all fallen asleep. Popsicle leg had been on the bed, the astronaut look-alike was sitting on one chair with her legs and feet on a second chair, and Mitchell was on the floor. None of them had looked the least bit comfortable. Jack had left them that way for about 45 minutes while he went to get some coffee.

When he had returned with coffee they were still sleeping. The new guard held onto the pot and styrofoam cups while Jack prepared to wake them. Knock on the door? Tap on the wall? Get their attention by raising his voice? It turned out that he hadn't had to do anything at all. The smell of coffee woke up the civilian first. The man had a big contented smile on his face a full five seconds before his eyes had popped open. Mitchell was a close second, stretching and groaning as the caffeine bouquet apparently revitalized him. Carter had wakened when Mitchell accidentally bumped one of her chairs as he moved to get up off the floor. She passed on coffee and had asked for juice instead.

With the three of them mostly awake and settled, he had begun again. They had calmed a little from the first round, and at first not much information was volunteered. Jack had been patient, but couldn't help noticing the way they kept looking at him. Especially when they thought that he wasn't aware of it. A few questions in he'd found out why. The other Jack O'Neill, an Air Force General, their friend, the one with the dead son, was also dead. Killed by an alien right in front of them. An alien! He had made sure his questions after that steered away from General O'Neill and other personnel, and stayed on recent events. He hadn't believed them, hadn't wanted to believe them, and he had left them in the room while he'd gone to give his reports. The written one, from memory and hand written notes, read like the script for a low budget science fiction movie, and if his video recorded verbal report was ever declassified, Jack was sure someone would insist that he see a shrink immediately, if not sooner.

When the submarine made port he had hoped to be done with them, but he had received revised orders to accompany them to Anchorage. After a 2000+ mile flight, he had handed them off to Security Forces hoping to never see any of them ever again, and he had almost gotten away clean when the request came for him to see the Elmendorf Base Commander. SG-1, as they were calling themselves wanted to see him. They were being interrogated separately, and each one of them had requested his presence. It was eerie. He wasn't their O'Neill. He wasn't their friend or their commander, and he had certainly never thought about being a general - though as his knees continued to degrade and he got older, he knew he couldn't work in the field forever. But a general? Nope, retirement was more like it. With Jackson in the base hospital just out of surgery, he'd watched Carter and Mitchell on live streaming surveillance video. They wouldn't stop insisting to see him, so he'd spoken to each, explaining that he was leaving, and that they would be talking to additional representatives from the NSA and DOD. Mitchell had pushed harder than Carter, and Jack, wanting to get back to the training on the ice so he could go home, had pushed back, telling him that he didn't want to have anything to do with them. And wouldn't have anything else to do with them unless he was ordered to. The last he knew before catching his flight was that they had requested to speak to Major General Hank Landry. O'Neill almost couldn't believe it. Hank was retired, but apparently not in SG-1's timeline. Knowing his friend would be royally ticked off for being hauled to Alaska, Jack decided he should try to make it up to him. Steak and beer would be a good start and he made a mental note to give Hank a call when they both got home.

A call which he still needed to make, Jack reminded himself, as he finally made it to bed. It had been over three weeks since he left Elmenforf and he hoped Hank was home by now. Sara was still awake, resting on her side and waiting for him. He slipped in behind her, his arm automatically crossing over her abdomen, gently pulling her body closer to his own. She smiled as his warmth embraced her, and sighed contentedly when his breath caressed her neck.

"I love you, Sara," he whispered. Jack knew she was awake. He'd heard her soft sigh, and felt her tremble before he pulled the covers over them.

She turned her head slightly and whispered back. "I love you more." Sara knew they wouldn't make love that night. Satisfied and content that her lover was home safe, she let Jack mold his body to hers, and they spooned for a minute before she asked, "Everything okay now?"

That one question encompassed everything that he'd been thinking about: the diversion to investigate the strange blue light caught on satellite; the unexpected radio calls; a dead astronaut apparently alive... or not; the three strangers claiming there were worm holes to other planets, aliens and alternate time lines; the warning about Earth being in danger; Carter and Mitchell thinking they somehow knew him and insisting he stay and chat with them; the Jackson guy claiming to be his best friend and the very same guy saying Charlie was dead.

Yeah, that was a kick in the head. Charlie killed in an accident with the other O'Neill's own hand gun. If what they said was true, then he was truly luckier than he had ever believed. He had a great wife and happy marriage, a terrific kid, a career he loved and good friends. He had survived numerous 'training accidents' and months as a POW. He already knew he was lucky, but it whad been on the flight home when he couldn't stop counting his blessings.

After coming through the front door it had continued, and only now could he give voice to his feelings. His answer to Sara's innocent, yet probing question was simple, but telling.

"Oh, it's much better than okay," he sighed, kissing the side of her neck, his hand caressing her hip. She turned her head and he kissed her tenderly on the mouth. Cuddling, their bodies molded to each other. Jack's hands and arms embraced Sara, making her feel loved, safe and contented, while his wife's foot gently massaged his calf. Taking her hand and locking his fingers with hers, he whispered, "It's perfect."

They snuggled together, their breathing synchronizing as they drifted into contented sleep. For that night, all was right with their world. Maybe tomorrow they'd grill steaks.

The End

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you're thinking. :)


	5. Steak out

This is a missing scene story for the Stargate movie "Continuum." It's new and was written with lots of help from zeilfanaat, who also gets the credit for the great title.

Pairing - Jack & Sara (nothing exactly graphic but it's **rated T**)

Warnings - um... none

* * *

"**Steak-out**"

Jack O'Neill stared at his son who was reclining on a worn chaise lounge with his knees pulled up and his hands behind his head. Freshly showered, the boy was dressed in an old pair of cutoff jeans and an orange t-shirt, his feet left bare. Earlier in the day Charlie had cut both lawns, used the edger in the front and the weed whacker in the back along the fence, and had even swept the driveway and walkways before declaring the job finished. From the open kitchen window Jack recognized the sound of water running in the sink, and he smiled when he heard his wife's voice.

The day had started with a loud thunk as the morning paper hit the screen door. It wasn't unexpected. In fact, it happened a couple of times a week. Usually Jack was already awake or even gone from the house when the paper arrived, but even he knew the delivery person had a good arm and good aim, and liked to practice. Jack had watched Sara sleeping and enjoyed the gentle sound of her breathing before sliding out of bed to use the restroom. Then he'd gone to prepare the coffee, bringing two mugs back to the bedroom along with the newspaper. Later, after working around the house, he'd been in the shower; he had his eyes closed with the hot water cascading over his forehead and face when he'd felt cool air touch his skin. His hair still slightly soapy, Jack hadn't opened his eyes, but he hadn't needed to as Sara's hands reached to help him rinse away the suds and create a few more. It had been a nice surprise, and they enjoyed some romantic play before getting out to get dressed for the rest of the day.

He sighed softly and looked up. The sky was a beautiful blue, and he didn't see a single cloud. A mild warm breeze caressed his face and neck. The sun was warm on his arms and face and he could smell the blooming honeysuckle, forever growing wild on the trellis next to the shed. It was a perfect day for a barbecue.

His thoughts had been everywhere except cooking when he heard sizzling and he immediately lifted the cover of the outdoor cooker. Seeing a flame, he reached blindly for the spray bottle, but it wasn't where he remembered leaving it. Just as he went to look for it on the shelf underneath, it appeared in front of him.

"Looking for this?" It was the semi-gruff voice of his good friend, Hank Landry. Without a word, he took the half full plastic bottle and squirted the errant flame with a little water. It was gone immediately, and he examined the grill briefly, looking for other places that hadn't been cleaned completely. Satisfied it would do, he closed the lid.

"You looked like you were a million miles away, Jack."

That statement wasn't far from the truth. He'd been doing that a lot since getting home the week before. Knowing Hank would understand, he revealed, "Ever since Elmendorf." His guest nodded before dipping his head to stare at the ground. What they'd seen and heard was going to stay with them for a little while longer.

The sun was long gone as Jack stared into the star filled night sky, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. Still needing a new muffler, Brad Preston's car was heading away, probably taking the boy to pick up his date, or perhaps he was taking his younger brother to a movie. The blunt clang of metal on metal meant someone down the road had taken out the trash. A sudden breeze brought the scent of cooked meat from the crusty grill of the barbecue, and he was glad it hadn't been cleaned yet. The meal had been excellent, with the steaks, vegetable kabobs and baked beans cooked perfectly. Sara had outdone herself with the coleslaw, potato salad and deviled eggs, and the Landry's had brought chocolate cream pie and all the fixings for strawberry shortcake. They had all enjoyed a great meal and then played badminton and lawn darts, before Charlie had headed in to give the adults some privacy.

The teenager had won every game of badminton, crushing one shuttlecock and losing another in the adjacent woods. Jack figured they'd probably find it when they looked during the day and had more light, and he knew they were the cheapie hard plastic ones, instead of the champion nylon kind he preferred. The new ones he remembered buying were nowhere to be found, and Charlie had denied knowing anything about them. The teenager had also won almost every round of lawn darts, even wagering with Hank on the side that he'd 'whup his dad's behind', which of course he had. Jack had wondered if he was upset about the missing nylon shuttlecocks or because his son could beat him at almost everything. He finally decided it was because of something Charlie had said.

"C'mon old man, is that the best you can do?" Charlie had laughed. He and Hank had laughed too, and it wasn't until after the games that Jack realized it bothered him. Before going into the house, Charlie had jokingly quipped, "See you later - you too old man," and it was only the big grin on his son's face that told Jack he hadn't really meant it.

Before Jack had had a chance to think about it much more, Sara had asked about the Landry's new granddaughter, and out came the pictures. The two couples had then talked about kids and parents and other things, until, after a polite amount of time, the ladies excused themselves and went into the house.

The husbands had remained quiet for quite a while, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Each could go for days without talking to another human being, something that drove their better halves batty. It was probably in the men's genes, though their military training and experience had certainly contributed to the skill. At least that's what they thought it was.

Both men sipped their beers until finally, after several minutes, Jack quietly inquired, "Think the house and yard are bugged?"

Hank about choked on the liquid in his throat and coughed several times before croaking out, "You want to sweep 'em?" The patio lights came on, startling him a little, but it was simply a timer activating the exterior bulbs in a prearranged sequence. His gaze went from the lights back to Jack, where on his face Hank saw, 'yes, we probably should sweep for bugs'.

Knowing it was the wrong place to talk, Hank quietly stated, "I doubt anything is bugged, but I'd hate to take the chance."

Jack held his gaze for several seconds before nodding in agreement. "There's not really anything to talk about anyway."

He was right, there wasn't a whole lot, but Hank knew what he wanted to know. Keeping his voice very low and leaning closer to Jack, he admitted, "We think it's all true."

The look on Jack's face spoke volumes. Surprise. Shock. Acceptance.

Looking at Hank he smiled and admitted, "I need more."

Hank sipped the last of his beer, then nodded once and said in a near-whisper, "I know."

Jack understood all about secrecy. In this case, he didn't know when or where or who would tell him, but he was confident he'd be invited under the umbrella of national security and kept in the loop in the future. For now, Hank acknowledging his need to know was enough.

Hank was also intimately familiar with secrecy, and even retired he knew more than most Americans about what was going on. He knew for certain that someone would be talking to Jack. If they believed SG-1, then his friend had the Ancient gene, and TPTB had already told Landry that they expected Jack to be included when the time came. Not much later Jack and Sara walked the couple to a cab in front of the house. They would get their car tomorrow.

Jack was jolted from his memories by an unmistakable high pitched whine which meant the idiot from down the road had entered the neighborhood. The annoying sound disrupted the quiet night and grated on Jack's nerves as he silently vowed, if he ever got another motorcycle, it wouldn't sound like that.

The stars held his interest for another few minutes as his brain processed the possibilities of stargates on some of the planets orbiting the suns he was admiring. So wrapped up in thinking about a person actually traveling to another world without a spaceship, Jack didn't hear Sara come outside and walk up to him.

"You're doing it again," she quipped lightly, standing right in front him.

Jack gazed up at her from where he sat in the deck chair, and before she knew it he'd pulled her onto him, his arms wrapped around her in a romantic embrace. She had just settled comfortably when he nuzzled her ear and whispered, "There is something else we could be doing... again." He wasn't feeling old at all.

Turning her body just slightly on his lap, she noticed instantly that he would not be comfortable for long. Moving off his thighs, Sara stood up and took his hand to pull him up too. Gently leading him, she opened the door and after a final quick look up to the stars in the night sky, Jack followed her into the house.

The End

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Thanks for reading. I appreciate very much any feedback you'd like to send.


	6. Legendary

This is a missing scene story for the Stargate movie "Continuum." A version of it was originally posted to a group on yahoo, but it's been rewritten with zeilfanaat's help.

Warnings – spoilers

* * *

**"Legendary"**

The aliens had arrived and not illegal ones from Mexico, Cuba, China or South America. Aliens in ships from outer space. It was still so incredible. Lt. General George Hammond had known about the three people found the year before, and he knew about the stargate and the plan to get it up and running. He also knew about the warnings, and dagnabbit if the claims weren't coming true. Mitchell, Carter and Jackson, the team from the other timeline, had blown in, been downright insubordinate and rude to the President, and were now on their way to Andrews AFB. Hammond had seen only Miss Carter accept a handshake. Mitchell had kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, and Jackson had started off with his hands tightly fisted, but had quickly put them in his pockets too.

He had heard the conversation, if Jackson bellowing 'I told you so' could be classified as conversation, and then, not wanting to look at the three of them anymore, and needing to locate two of the people known to have the Ancient gene, he had turned his back. One or both of the men with the ability to operate Ancient devices might be needed if the Navy got the stargate working, and if SG-1 was actually able to steal a cargo ship, get to another planet, find the power source and get back. It was a long shot, but at the moment it was the only one they had.

"For a minute, I was wondering, General," the President admitted. Perching his hip on the edge of the table next to Hammond, he clarified. "For a minute I was wondering if they were going to help."

"Yes, Sir." Hammond still couldn't believe that those three individuals had been on a team that had supposedly saved the planet... more than once. It was absurd. He accepted a folder from an aide and volunteered the information to the President. "We contacted Colonel O'Neill. His orders have been cut, but the time to get him there will take about four hours longer than anticipated."

President Henry Hayes turned toward Hammond and looking puzzled he asked, "Why?"

"He refused the hop to Iraq to catch the quickest flight," Hammond explained. He knew from the look on his face that the President didn't take kindly to officers countermanding orders. He usually didn't either.

"What do you mean, he REFUSED?" The President's ears turned red as he raised his voice, something he didn't ordinarily resort to doing. The Colonel couldn't refuse a direct order. If he did, he could face charges.

Hammond only hesitated a second before responding to the man's angry disbelief. He kept his voice even and his gaze straight ahead. "Colonel O'Neill was ordered to Iraq where he would catch a hop to Germany, which would get him on a plane bound for McMurdo Station. He refused to go into Iraq."

Hayes remained quiet, all the while wondering about O'Neill. He remembered him as the AF officer who made initial contact with the three members of SG-1, and the one to conduct the first couple of debriefings. The man then completed video and written reports, and his own lengthy debrief before being released back to duty, which, if Hayes remembered correctly, was heading up Special Forces training on the ice. Nobody had thought much about O'Neill again until the aliens had showed up. They had had a plan, at least they thought they had. A team had been working for months to excavate and set up the stargate found in the deep frozen crevasse in case what SG-1 had predicted actually came to fruition. They had known about the Ancient gene and scientists were still trying to isolate it so they could test for it since it was reasonable to assume that others possessed it too. Their plan in case the aliens came had included knowing where to find O'Neill, and with him still being on active duty, it had been relatively easy to keep tabs on him. It had been months since the man had been read in on the proposed project.

"The Colonel told me no, Mr. President," Hammond continued, smiling at the man's audacity. "He will not go anywhere near Iraq, and he referenced a Presidential Order preventing anyone from making him do so." He didn't tell the President that O'Neill had said that the only way he'd go would be in shackles, because Hayes might just want to do that to the Colonel.

With a questioning look the President replied, "You're smiling. What's going on and why aren't you ready to court martial him and make due with the other man?"

"I demanded an explanation after he not only told me no, but hell no." Chuckling, Hammond slowly shook his head, actually enjoying telling the story, and Hayes just stared at him in disbelief. Realizing that Hayes was staring at him like he had two heads, he unsuccessfully concealed a slight smirk and continued. "To be precise, he said, 'Hell no, Sir' before he gave me his reason. Mr. President, if we need more, you'll have to get access to that order."

President Hayes was wondering what the heck was going on and why one of his predecessors would issue such an order. "What did he tell you, George?"

Hammond wasn't smiling anymore and in a sobering tone said, "He'd been a special guest of Saddam Hussein, Mr. President." His gaze went to the floor.

Hayes stared at Hammond as his own brain interpreted the words. O'Neill had been a POW. He let that realization soak in for only a moment. It was terrible, however, while he felt for the man, he was needed now... by the whole dang planet. They'd get him whatever he required: leave, PTSD counseling, whatever he needed for as long as he needed it. But of all the times the man could have refused, today was not it.

"You reminded him about the gene and why we need him?" Both men knew that last part depended on SG-1.

"I did." His tone was solemn and his gaze still directed down at the President's feet.

Hammond's eyes were hooded and Hayes knew he wasn't telling him everything. "He still refused? Knowing the planet is in jeopardy and, because of the gene, he's all we've got?"

Lifting his gaze he said, "Mr. President, he said his wife and son had been through it twice, and it wasn't going to happen again." Hammond knew he could have ordered him. Maybe should have ordered him. Should have demanded that he get his butt into Iraq. But he hadn't pushed the officer, hadn't forced him in any way to comply. No ordering, no yelling, no reprimand. Under normal circumstances, Hammond knew he wouldn't have hesitated to discipline the officer. The phrasing of the declaration however had not escaped him. O'Neill hadn't refused for himself. He wanted to protect his family. And that was something Hammond could certainly identify with and understand.

An unspoken apology passed from the General to the President. Hammond could have explained further. He could have told Hayes that O'Neill had questioned the time table. He could have admitted to providing more information than a General should ever need to divulge. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd done it. Why he'd been totally honest with information that nobody, including the Colonel, had a right to know. Hammond wasn't sure, but he finally decided that he had told him because O'Neill had asked, and because somewhere in the back of his mind, he figured out that O'Neill needed to know and deserved to know.

Hammond knew in his gut that there was something extraordinary about the man. Satisfied that he'd made the right decision, he admitted simply, "He'll still arrive in plenty of time."

President Hayes considered for a moment, but then smiled and nodded at his trusted friend. He didn't need an explanation, and he didn't need to see the sealed order to confirm anything. He now understood why the former President had done what he did. Heck, Hayes knew he would have issued an order like that after the first time. The Colonel knew they could check. Knew they probably would check. Perhaps when he got the time, he would try and find out more about Colonel Jack O'Neill.

"Just get him there, General," the President conceded, his trust in Hammond absolute. His attention was drawn to an aide handing another folder to Hammond. He had to wait only a second or two.

"The other man with the gene, Captain John Sheppard, is confined to quarters." Hammond didn't even ponder why Sheppard was a Captain when he was apparently a Major in the other timeline.

"I guess we should get him too. What did he do?" He didn't have the luxury of wondering for too long, the planet might need Sheppard.

"Yes, Sir," Hammond acknowledged as he nodded to the aide, waiting in the wings. "He's facing charges for disobeying a direct order. We won't use him unless we have to."

The President didn't miss the irony. Still curious about O'Neill, he gave a short nod to Hammond before walking to a more private area to make a phone call.

Later when the stargate site had been destroyed and SG-1 was on their way to Russia, Hayes and Hammond sat side by side. Amid the flickering emergency lighting, they, along with the others in the bunker, were lounging on the floor or in the chairs that hadn't been damaged when part of the ceiling came down. Rubble was all around them and choking dust filled the stale air. The bunker was their salvation, but also their tomb, unless by some miracle someone could dig them out.

"I found out about the sealed order for O'Neill."

The two men were covered in plaster dust. Hayes was cradling his left arm and Hammond had blood on the side of his face. Turning his head, the General noticed the soft look in the President's eyes.

"I want to believe he was telling the truth," Hammond quietly replied, hoping he hadn't misjudged O'Neill. He had never met the man in person, but he liked him.

"He was," President Hayes confirmed. "I called Ben directly." Hammond recognized the first name of the former President. The man had been a senior Senator running for President when Hayes was a junior Senator, wondering why he'd gotten into politics. Representing the same political party, they'd met and conferred many times, and had became friends.

"Not only can he refuse to go to Iraq, he can also decline any or all service in Iran, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan. And a couple of others I don't remember right now." He flinched silently, easing his arm and shoulder to another position.

"Damn," Hammond exclaimed, both for the revelation and Hayes being in obvious pain. "How does he stay in Special Forces and never go into those places?" He'd forgotten for a moment that O'Neill had been in one of those countries when he had contacted him just a few hours earlier. Hammond thought he could still hear the ringing in his ears when the man had vehemently refused.

"He doesn't always refuse. It's his choice," President Hayes explained. "I believe that if our timetable needed him at McMurdo sooner, he would have gone into Iraq for the flight you first wanted him to take."

Hammond wanted to believe it too. O'Neill had his reasons, good reasons, for not going into Iraq. The man had stated his case with passion, and for that, Hammond had to give him credit.

Not waiting for Hammond to reply, Hayes quietly added, "The first time he was missing for four months. For most of it, nobody knew he was even still alive. That was during the first Gulf War. He returned to the region after 9/11, heading up the teams tracking Al Qaeda and locating their camps. Bad intelligence got him and two teams captured. Five months later they all escaped."

Hammond listened intently. The curious Colonel Jack O'Neill was becoming more and more curious... and mysterious.

"He has a special exemption for his commendations," Hayes offered, as another ceiling tile came down close to them.

Hammond wondered who in the world would issue special orders for medals and citations. And just how many special orders did the man have? Hayes wasn't finished explaining.

"The man's been written up for the Medal of Honor... twice. Never went forward because there was just no way to reveal his heroism without divulging classified information." It wasn't unusual for Special Forces operations to tread into black ops territory, entering and leaving without a trace. "These weren't solo ops either. There were plenty of reliable witnesses."

Hammond nodded, waiting for the President to continue. Congress and the media would have wanted details. They'd have demanded to know every little bit of information about what the Colonel had done, when he had done it, how he had done it, why he had done and where he had done it. No stone would have been left unturned, and some information, some details should never be allowed to see the light of day. Some of Hammond's service had been that way, so he completely understood the cloud of secrecy that cloaked O'Neill.

An electrical outlet near them sparked and then started smoking. The sprinklers hadn't kicked in yet, and everyone was hoping they wouldn't. The people in the bunker were buried alive. They didn't need to be wet too. Emergency power had become intermittent as the already dim lights dimmed further.

"Very few people know anything at all about the Colonel's ops and the ones that know something... know practically nothing at all. Or at least they don't admit to knowing." Hayes had been surprised when Ben relayed so much information about O'Neill. After hearing it, he didn't think anything would surprise him anymore. The man was the genuine article.

"Surely he was given something in their place," Hammond guessed, referring back to the medals, as the smoke from the outlet diminished. True heroism wasn't just dismissed.

"Two Air Force Crosses and a Silver Star, all of which he has permission not to wear." Hammond looked stunned. Hayes chuckled lightly, adding, "He has two other Silver Stars, three Distinguished Service medals, two Bronze Stars and several Purple Hearts, which he also has permission not to display." O'Neill was a true hero who didn't want anybody to know it.

"He's supposed to wear all ribbons and devices," Hammond absently reminded himself and the President. "I never heard about anyone asking for permission to keep from displaying their medals, let alone actually getting it. I don't understand, Mr. President."

"I can't speak for him, but from what Ben told me, I'm guessing that he believes he's just doing his job and doesn't like any special attention. Medals like those would certainly be noticed, and in that quantity especially."

Hammond was puzzled, but was liking the mysterious Colonel more and more. "I wonder what ribbons he does wear?" he questioned out loud, not expecting a reply.

The President knew the answer. He had asked the same question earlier.

The bunker was deathly silent with only the occasional cough to interrupt it when Hayes told Hammond, and anyone else who was listening, "O'Neill and Ben go way back. Even Kinsey had good things to say about him after SG-1 showed up here a year ago."

"Bob Kinsey seldom has anything good to say about the military, personnel included," Hammond stated knowingly. As a Senator the man had been instrumental in holding back funding, and since becoming Secretary of State, he was even more anti-military. He supported the President's decisions, but only after the State Department had run roughshod over everybody in the Department of Defense, FBI and CIA, and all the advisers in the White House.

Hammond's gut hadn't been wrong, but now he wanted to know more. "What did he say about the Colonel?"

The President smiled. "He knew of him by reputation. Said he has as many reprimands as commendations. Called him a hero." Hayes turned to look at Hammond, a quirky smile on his face. "O'Neill is legendary in Special Forces." The words were spoken proudly, almost reverently. Hammond's eyes twinkled as he returned the smile, satisfied that he hadn't been wrong about the man.

A while later the temperature in the sealed space had gone up and the two men were drinking sparingly from water bottles. Hammond had been thinking about McMurdo being destroyed, and broke the silence.

"I hope he's all right," he confessed in a half whisper. Hammond wanted to believe that O'Neill's luck was holding and that he hadn't been at the base when it was destroyed. He wanted to believe that his plane had either landed safely somewhere or that he'd successfully parachuted out. Hammonded needed to believe. The planet needed a man like Colonel Jack O'Neill fighting for it.

The President knew Hammond was talking about jack O'Neill because he also wanted him to be alive, to be out there helping lead the fight against the invaders. Everyone needs heroes - live heroes.

The air was thick and stale and the President coughed weakly. He cleared his irritated throat before telling his friend, "Amen, George. Amen."

The End

* * *

This is the last of my "Stargate: Continuum" missing scene stories. Thanks for reading. I hope you liked them.


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